


For as Long as There are Stars in the Sky I'll Stand by You (And Even After They're Gone I'll Be There)

by EmrystheWarlock



Series: The Mayhem of Mercia [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Prince Merlin, Royal Merlin, honestly im terrible, just ignore these, tbh im not good with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrystheWarlock/pseuds/EmrystheWarlock
Summary: A mysterious beast plagues Mercia, and Merlin has no idea what to do. Where's Arthur when he needs him?





	For as Long as There are Stars in the Sky I'll Stand by You (And Even After They're Gone I'll Be There)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I took so long to post. This thing called school came up and effectively kept me occupied. To make up for it, I present to you a 7k. Hope you enjoy.

As time passed, Merlin counted down the days until he could meet Arthur and the rest of his friends again. It wasn't that he was lonely per se, for he had indeed found companionship in the company of the red-haired knight Mare and, surprisingly enough, Kay, who had since warmed to him considerably. However, there was a thing to be said about the comforts of home, and he missed Camelot and his friends dearly. Not that he had much time for nostalgia nowadays. No, his days were mostly filled with the clashing of iron to iron and reading dusty tomes in an even dustier library with an even dustier librarian, if that made any sense. Because he was training to be Crown Prince, it was his duty to know its history and its ways. He was to be its leader, and a leader who didn't know his people was no leader at all. It was all rather boring really, but Merlin still made time in his day to dig out an old book on magic and study it. It fascinated him, the spells and enchantments he was now able to perform, and all in the public eye. People here did not fear magic and instead embraced it as the tool that it was.  


Still, Merlin knew that if he had to spend one more moment stuck in a room filled with stuffy councilmen, he was going to kill something-or perhaps maim it very, very badly. Perhaps if he pinned Lord Perrington’s head to the wall, the councilmen might finally shut up and listen to him. Merlin fingered one of the daggers Kay had given him at the thought. That was another thing that had changed. As it turned out, while Merlin was no good at swordplay, he had a dab hand in knife throwing. While he would have to get close to kill in hand-to-hand combat, he could still throw from a distance and his speed greatly aided him. He thought Arthur would be pleased.

 

Arthur. Merlin sat back heavily in his chair. It would be no use thinking on him. In fact, Arthur would probably be ashamed of him now, locked away in his chambers and pining, _pining_ , after him. That wasn't the way Arthur thought. He craved action, needed it, and even if he did miss Merlin in even an inkling of the way Merlin missed him, he’d be careful not to show it. _Emotion is a weakness,_ Arthur would say, even if Merlin knew that that was Uther talking. He’ would like to think Arthur missed him though. It made being away from him a little easier, selfish as it may be.

A knock sounded at the door, dragging him from his thoughts. At first, Merlin thought it was Kay, come to take him for another training session, but the frantic pounding told him otherwise. 

 

  
“Prince Merlin!” A guard then. “It’s the king! He requests your presence in the throne room. He says it’s urgent.” Merlin frowned. It was unlike the king to request him specifically, and in the throne room no less. While Lot was eager to know more about the family he never had, it did not change the fact that he was still a king and had many more important matters to attend to. He usually left Kay and the councilmen to his training, and Merlin saw him little. In fact, other than feasts and dinners, Merlin couldn’t recall a time when the king had called on him for anything public. The guard rapped on the door again.  
“Coming!” Merlin called out and tugged on a boot.

*

The walk to the throne room was a short one, but each step was filled with dread. The guard had filled him in, briefly, but left out any details. Two men were dead. Mercian guards. Dumped in a well and found by two maids come to fetch cool water. According to the guard, the witnesses were now waiting in the throne room for questioning and the corpses of the two men were now waiting for examination by Malus, the Court Physician. If he was to be believed, the guards had not died of natural causes. They had been murdered, but by whom was a mystery. 

 

Finally, Merlin and the guard stopped in front of the looming oaken doors of the throne room. The doors were something of a mystery to the Mercians, as they were engraved with countless Druidic and Celtic symbols, and not all of them were known. Merlin recognized a few of them, such as the Triskele, a three-armed, circular spiral, which stood for the land, sea, and sky and the Awen, a symbol sketched with three upright bars, all leaning towards the middle and standing for inspiration. There were others of course, but Merlin had a hard time differentiating them, having no such education in them in the past. He laid a gentle hand on the center one, where the Mercian coat of arms lay. It wasn't a violent symbol, unlike the dragon of Camelot, but a simple, healing one. A tree of life where hopes and dreams came alive and people came to learn, to thrive. Merlin missed Camelot, his first true home, dearly, but he was more and more coming to see Mercia as a new home, one where he could be free to be himself at ease and without repercussion.

“Sire?” The guard asked quietly. Merlin sighed and let his arm fall limp at his side. Even if he was free, he had duties, and he had to remember the ones waiting for him in the throne room right then. Merlin nodded his head slightly, squaring his shoulders, and the guard, taking the hint, opened the doors.

All eyes turned to him. Merlin gulped but strode to the front of the room, where King Lot stood, and two maids knelt before him, not in an act of submission, but because they were well and truly sobbing and didn’t seem to have the strength to stand. Mare was also knelt there, trying to calm the wrecked maids with soothing words of encouragement. Lot looked to him, relief clear across his face.

“Finally, “ He said, “We’ve been waiting for you for ages. “ and then, voice lowered down to a whisper, “they’ve been like this since they arrived. Can’t seem to get them to calm down. I don’t suppose there’s anything you could do?”

Lot looked at him hopefully. “Me?” Merlin asked incredulously, “What am I suppose to do?”

“You know-“ He gave a pointed wiggle of his fingers. “Magic.”

“Magic,” Merlin repeated dully. He glanced around the room. “There are loads of people who can do magic right here in this room.”

“Well, yeah, but not all of them can dig into someone’s brain and extract their memories, now can they?”

“You want me to mess around in their brains?!” Merlin seethed. “Do you know how dangerous that is?” Lot didn't even have the decency to look concerned.

“You’ll be fine.” He said simply. “And besides, does it look like we’re going to get anything out of those maids? At this rate, we’ll be here all evening and into the night just waiting for them to speak without turning into a sobbing mess.” Merlin sighed and pinched his nose, conceding the point.

“Fine,” he said, “But if those two maids wake up tomorrow morning with the brains of a two-year-old, I’m blaming you.” Lot grinned and clapped him on the back.

“Good man.” Merlin knew he was going to really regret this, but found himself walking forward and kneeling before the two maids anyway. The crowd around him went silent. Absently, Merlin noticed Kay standing beside one of his fellow knights, Rowan, Merlin thought, and Malus slipping in the door behind him but paid them no heed.

Mare knelt beside him. “Their names are Gwyn and Jes.” She whispered. “They just moved here from their home village at the border of Camelot. Their mum’s sick and they needed a job to get her medicine. They were only staying for a few days, a week at most.”

Merlin winced. “Poor girls.” He nodded in agreement.

“I need to know what they saw.” He said quietly.

“You won't get anything out of them.”

“I know.” He laid gentle hands on each of their arms. “Gwyn? Jes?” They didn't even stir, too distracted with their crying. He continued. “My name is Merlin. I’m going to help you. “ No response. He sighed. “Was worth a shot.”

He raised his arms until his fingers brushed Gwyn’s temples. No sense in searching through both their minds at once. He closed his eyes, gathering the magic inside himself. What he was about to do was dangerous, not only for the maid but for himself too. Here goes nothing. He took in a deep breath and pushed.

*

 _Merlin was flying. No, not flying, falling. Falling through the sky, plummeting through the clouds and through the crisp, cool, air of morning. Falling. Falling. Falling. Through the trees and their branches,_ brambles _, and bushes. Falling as the ground rose up to meet him. He fell but felt no fear as flesh met dust and he crashed to the ground. There was no pain. It was as if landing in a nest of thick woolen blankets, soft and comforting._

_The crack of snapping twigs sounded in the distance. Remember. He had to remember. He was here for a purpose. He couldn’t remember his purpose. He couldn't remember who he was. He stood up slowly, mind hazy, as if in a dream. Maybe he was. Or maybe he was dead. Dead and in heaven somewhere. Is this what heaven was like?_

_“No,” he said firmly. “Not dead.” Dying. “No.” He repeated._

_He stumbled forward. More noises. A scream. He ran forward, chasing the sound as it echoed in his mind. He fell, tripping over a stray tree root, but picked himself back up again. Somehow, he knew this was his purpose. He was here for a reason. He just had to remember._

_The forest swayed around him, but he pushed forward, forward until he found what he was looking for. A well. Two women were there. The source of the scream. He fell against the well’s rounded stone and peered inside. At first, there was only him, his mirror image staring back up at him. The maids continued screaming pointing accusing fingers at the well, though Merlin could only guess why. Until he saw them._

_Two figures. Crumpled at the bottom of the well, the water red and turning redder around them. Merlin didn't know how he didn't see it before. Their deaths were recent_ _if the continued flow of blood was any indication. He almost gagged as he took in their features. Their faces were marred and ruined, open in identical expressions of terror. Their chests_ _were ripped open, organs and bones and ligaments exposed for all the world to see. He did gag then, a muffled sob escaping his lips. Their legs, just as bloody and mangled as the rest of them._

_Who would do such a thing?_

_More twigs snapped, and he whirled around, thoroughly terrified. Whoever had done this-he broke off. He wasn't safe. The maids weren't safe. No-one was safe. And that thing was still out there, whoever or whatever it was._

_“Wake up,” He gasped. “Wake up. Wake up.” He pulled at his hair. “Wake. Up.” Because this wasn't real. It couldn't be. A dream. It was just a dream. “Wake up.” He gasped out one more time, a plea._

_And then he saw it. And it wasn't a dream. It wasn't reality._

_Merlin remembered._

 

*

 

Merlin jerked awake with a scream, wrenching away from the still sobbing maid. He gasped and fell back, burying his face in his hands. The images were fresh in his mind. Too fresh. When he closed his eyes he could still see them, the guards, the maids, the beast. His eyes flew open, but it did nothing to stop the wetness forming at his eyes. A sob wrenched from his mouth.

A hand landed on his shoulder, jerking him back to reality. Lot loomed over him, an expression of concern on his face. “Merlin?” He asked quietly. Merlin sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him, his face a mask of blankness.

“‘M fine.” He murmured, and then louder, “I’m fine.” He stood up shakily and locked gazes with Lot. He wasn’t fine, not really, but he'd deal with it later. “There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

*

“These are the images of the bodies of the two guards found by the maids at the well.” Malus cast a lazy hand toward the images of two men floating in the air of the throne room. It had been mere moments since Merlin had awoken from his dream-like state and he might have been impressed by the complex display of magic, had he not been trying to carefully compose himself into a mask of cool indifference. “Notice the lacerations across their faces, how they've been marred gruesomely, almost as if by a claw or claws that had been drawn against them numerous times.” He pointed to their faces. “But then look at their necks. Those are snake bites there.” It was true. Two perfect puncture holes were at the side of their necks.

Malus pointed to their chests. “Their chests have been ripped open, by teeth.” Merlin remembered those very teeth, sharp and glistening with red. He shivered.

“The wounds contradict each other. There is no recorded history in all of Mercia’s libraries that support a beast that can poison its enemies through such a bite whilst also having the claws of a great lion and the jaw of a bear. I can only presume that this is the work of one creature, one that we had all thought to be a mere myth until now. A creature of nightmare.” The crowd grew ominously quiet as Lot leaned forward from his place on the throne, chin resting on his hands.

Malus turned to Merlin, as if in confirmation. Merlin nodded his head to him. He knew what this creature was.

“A chimera.”

The crowd erupted with incredulous speech.

“A chimera?” One sneered. “That three-headed beast?”

“Actually, “Malus corrected calmly, “That’s the Cerberus.” More explosions.

“You’re off your rocker, old man!” Another jeered. The insults went on and on. Some questioned his intelligence and others the validity of his claims, but privately, Merlin thought that they were all just in varying stages of denial. Malus was like the truth seer of Mercia. No matter how insane or implausible, whatever he spoke was the truth. He was honest and blunt. Not everyone was appreciative of that quality.

Distantly, Merlin noticed Lot in the background, who had since stood up and begun pacing the throne room steps with increasing levels of aggravation. Finally, as if he just couldn't take any more of the nobles senseless babbling, he stilled and lifted a hand for quiet. The crowd ignored him. Annoyance crumpled his features. He cleared his throat, but obviously, they were either ignoring him or truly could not hear him. He growled quietly and stood up straight. Merlin just knew that he was about to put the fear of the gods in them all.

“Quiet!” Lot roared, and the crowd, finally, went silent. They turned to him as one, looking nervous. Lot _never_ yelled, and when he did-

“Quiet,” he repeated, softer this time. “Now that we’ve all heard what Malus has to say, I think it’s time to let Prince Merlin say his piece.” He turned to Merlin expectantly. “Merlin?”

Merlin cleared his throat. He didn't want to relive the terrible images of the beast, the _chimera,_ his brain supplied helpfully, but it was necessary if they ever hoped to catch this creature and prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again.

“Malus is right.” He said, trying to find the will to sound confident. “This…chimera, it actually exists with the head of a lion, the body of a bear, and the tail of a snake. I saw it, right before I woke up. I saw it, and I looked into its eyes, and I saw nothing but hate. Hate…and a spark of intelligence. It knows what it’s doing and it intends to do it again. It thrives on fear and it kills because it’s fun.” He took in a deep breath, angry at this perversion of nature. “We _must_ find it. Find it and kill it. Because if we don’t…if we don’t, may the gods have mercy on us all.”

The crowd was deathly silent. Kay was looking at him, thinking. Merlin could almost see the gears turning in his head. “But sire, “ he asked, “If what you say is indeed true, and this creature has no recorded history, is it not safe to assume that someone has summoned this creature?” Merlin met his gaze, an agreement…and a promise. They would find this creature, this creature, and its master, and bring them to the end they deserved.

“Undoubtedly.”

*

Merlin and a patrol of knights left the following day for the forest. Under the guise of searching for the chimera, which they were, Merlin sought out Arthur’s party. There was a neutral sight in the center of the forest, one where two parties of opposing kingdoms could meet without fear of repercussion or accidentally calling an act of war. Merlin had intended to meet Arthur there, and could only hope that the Prince was smart enough to take a hint when it came.

Kay rode alongside Merlin, dressed in the intricate metal of Mercian armor and the dark royal blue cloak of Mercia. An expression of grim resignation danced on his face. The loss of the two guards had hit them both hard, Merlin being their prince and future leader and Kay being their captain and commander. They both took responsibility for every life lost, even if the fault was not theirs.

Kay nudged Merlin, bringing him from his thoughts. “Tracks.” He muttered, pointing to a trail of hoof prints not ten feet in front of them.

“We’re close then,” Merlin replied back. His horse, Lillywhite, as he so proudly called her, shifted nervously under him.

“Not necessarily. Those could be anyone tracks. This road connects Mercia and Camelot. All types of travelers and merchants use this every day.” Merlin frowned and hopped down from his horse. He crouched down in front of the prints, eyeing them thoughtfully.

“Not possible.” He exclaimed. “I recognize the hoof prints. Look there at the shape of the curve, it’s Camelot’s design.”

Kay looked to him warily. “If you’re sure, sire.”

“Positive.”

And so the patrol followed the tracks, leading north, until they came to a sudden stop in the road, hardly twenty yards from their intended destination. Merlin’s brow furrowed, squinting in search of more. “That doesn’t make any sense, “He muttered, “The tracks can't just stop.”

The others dismounted around him. “Orders, sire?” Kay asked. Merlin drew in a deep breath.

“Fan out! I want every inch of this place covered.” He’d find Arthur, and find out what happened here, even if it killed him.

The search went on for nearly an hour, long enough that even Merlin had started to grow discouraged. “Sire!” One knight called out. Merlin, who had been busy inspecting a broken tree branch, immediately dropped it and ran over.

The knight led him over to a secluded trail, one so tiny and obscure, that Merlin had to truly focus to even see it. The knight crouched, brushing a hand over the evidence. “Footprints. Human. And fresh. If we hurry we might be able to catch up to them.” Merlin tuned him out, attention turning to the other, more important evidence besides the footprint.

“Blood.” He spoke quietly. Kay stumbled to a halt beside him. “Damn,” Kay breathed. Merlin looked at him before standing up, brushing off his clothes from leaves and twigs.

“We’re going after them,” Merlin demanded. He had known something had happened to them, known just as he knew he was breathing.

“Sire, we can’t!” Kay exclaimed. “We need a plan. We can't just rush in there half-cocked and expect to-“ Merlin cut him off. “That’s my best friend they have, whoever they are.” He wouldn't acknowledge the sneaking suspicion that perhaps this wasn't the actions of a person, but rather a certain magical beast.

“Sire, “Kay repeated, calmer this time. He understood where he was coming from, having lost fellow knights himself. But this wasn't just some knight, this was Arthur for God’s sake. “I need you to think rationally about this, like the intelligent men we are.” But it was too late.

Merlin was already gone. Kay swore and took off after him.

Later, Merlin wished he hadn’t.

 

*

There was no bloodthirsty, violent monster come to greet them when they finally found Arthur’s patrol. Rather, they were greeted by what was left of the patrol after the chimera was through with it. Men lay dead or dying around them, their once mighty cloaks of red now ripped to ribbons and scattered around them. Their faces, similar to the faces of the two guards, wore mirror expressions of terror. Blood coated the forest floor like an extra layer. This was no accident. This was a deliberate, gruesome act, one meant to discovered. The Mercian patrol looked around them in horror. One or two vomited, sick to their stomachs.

Merlin paid them no heed. Arthur. He had to find Arthur. He stumbled around the site, checking for survivors, checking for Arthur, jerking the other men into action. Nearly twenty Camelot knights lay fallen around him, and though he knew he would mourn them, later, as if they were his own men, now he had concern only for one man.

“C’mon, Arthur.” He muttered, turning over the body of a blond knight, still breathing, but severely injured. It wasn't him. The Knight moaned in pain as Merlin jerked his head, calling for Kay to help him. Once he knew the man was safe, if not entirely alright, he moved on. On and on until he reached the one man he was looking for.

A name stopped him in his tracks. “Merlin.” Merlin knew that voice. Not Arthur’s because Arthur’s voice didn't have near that roguish tint to it. “Gwaine.” He breathed, and spun around, spotting the dark haired knight slumped against a stray boulder. Merlin raced toward him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him gently, if not desperately.

“Gwaine,” He said again, relieved. Gwaine managed a pained smile, though merriment danced in his eyes.

“Not so fast there, mate. Not exactly one hundred percent here.” He gestured down to the rest of him. He was injured, badly. If he didn't receive medical treatment, and soon, his wounds may very well be fatal. Merlin grimaced, coming to a decision in his mind. He laid his hands gently on the most injured part of him, his leg, which looked like some sort of creature’s teeth had ripped into it, and let the magic flow through him.

“ _Leigheas_ ,” He breathed. Immediately, the results showed. His wounds closed as the magic wrapped itself around him, healing, protecting. When it was finished, Gwaine looked up at him. Merlin met his gaze, nervous and seeking forgiveness.

Gwaine smirked. “As if I didn't know.” Merlin gaped. Gwaine laughed at his expression. “It was fairly obvious, my friend. I mean, random lucky tree branches falling on our opponents at exactly the right moment. Fires starting mysteriously right in the nick of time. It wasn't that difficult to piece together.”

“I-how did you-“ Gwaine laughed again, throwing his head back.

“Well, it obviously wasn't Arthur, and unless I’ve developed magic somehow without realizing it…” He let the sentence finish itself.

“When did you find out?” Merlin asked, still high on the realization that Gwaine knew, knew and forgave him for it. Gwaine extended an arm to him, a silent question to help him up. Merlin did so gladly, huffing out a laugh.

“First time we met, mate. Unless I’ve missed something, plates do not throw themselves.” Merlin recalled the memory fondly, even though Gwaine had been injured immediately afterward. He remembered how Arthur-Arthur…oh, god.

“Gwaine!” He gasped. How could he have forgotten? In the joy of seeing his friend again, he had forgotten the one other who still needed him. “Arthur. Have you seen Arthur?”

Gwaine paled, taking in his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. “Not since the battle…”

Merlin looked around, swearing violently. “We have to find him.”

“He can't have gotten far.” And so the both of them set out, together, roving the nearby land like madmen in search of any sign of Arthur’s whereabouts. “Use your magic,” Gwaine suggested. Merlin had thought of that, but couldn't use it to track Arthur unless he had something that belonged to him. He relayed this to Gwaine, who frowned slightly. “I have something.”

He brought out a ring, Arthur’s mother’s ring, the one that Arthur never took off, not even in battle. “How did you get this?”Merlin murmured, plucking it gently from Gwaine’s fingers. He turned it over in his hand.

“After you left,” Gwaine started. “Arthur had six rings made, one for each of his inner circle of knights. Roundtable Knights he called us.” Merlin counted internally.

“Who’s the sixth?” Gwaine grinned at him.

“You are, of course.” Warmth rushed through him. So Arthur had missed him after all.

“Arthur carries it with him at all times, you know, just in case.”

“I didn’t-“

“What? Know he cared? We all know princess is something of an ass when it comes to relaying emotion, but surely you knew he cared for you.” Merlin hadn’t, not really anyway. Arthur had shown flashes of something like fondness occasionally, but usually, his emotions toward a certain ex-manservant were locked up so tight not even Merlin could ever hope to reach them.

“The point of the matter is, Arthur gave us these rings and I’d hoped that because he was the one who gave them to us you might be able to use it to track him.” Merlin glanced down at the ring laying flat in his palm.

“It should do nicely. “

*

  
Using Gwaine’s ring, he and Merlin tracked Arthur to a small cave deep in the forest, presumably where the Chimera lived. They had ditched the Mercian party a while back, using their distraction in caring for the Camelot knights to their advantage. Merlin knew Kay would be pissed later on, but couldn't really find it in himself to care.

Along the way, Gwaine explained what they’d been doing in the forest in the first place. “Obviously, we were coming to meet you, but then we heard about this beast-“ “Chimera.” Merlin supplied helpfully. “Right, and so Arthur decided he was going to take action and put this creature down himself. “

“So that’s how you came to the forest.”

“Exactly, except we had no idea, none, of what kind of monster we’d be facing. If we did…well, let’s just say things might have ended very, very differently.” He looked down to his shuffling feet, obviously thinking on the massacre they’d left behind.

Merlin reached out a hand, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Most of those men back there, Gwaine, they survived. I imagine Kay has already sent a messenger back home. Healers will be there within the hour. Your men will be fine. “

“You didn't see it, Merlin. There’s no way-“

“I did, actually. See the chimera. The big ugly thing with the head of a lion, body of a bear, and tail of a snake? Mercia’s had their own experiences with it.” And so Merlin told him the tale of the two maids finding the guards deep in a well, of Merlin searching deep in their memories to cast a mere glance at the beast.

When he was finished, Gwaine let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you’ve been mighty busy, my friend.”

Merlin thought back on his training to becoming a prince, of early morning practices where he became a literal practice dummy as Kay whacked at him with his sword, and how slowly, slowly, Merlin learned the trade of weaponry. He would always be rubbish at swordsmanship in comparison to Gwaine and Kay and Arthur, but he knew now that he could defend himself with or without the use of magic should the need ever arise.

Merlin looked to the cave looming in front of him, dark and ominous looking. The screech of claw to stone echoed from the cavern and Merlin and Gwaine drew their swords as one.

“Together?” Merlin asked. Arthur was in there, and he'd find him if it was the last thing he ever did. Gwaine’s eyes twinkled mischievously, a rogue smirk tugging at his lip.

“Where else would I be?”

And together, the two men, a prince, and his knight, if not by name, marched arm and arm into the outstretched arms of hell in search of a friend.

*

Ever since Merlin was a child, he'd had a rather irrational fear of the dark. On the nights when the moon wasn't out and storms raged across the sky, Merlin’s mother would hold him and whisper soft lullabies in his ear until he fell asleep. Unfortunately, as time passed, the fear did not ease and when he was eventually a grown man, he was not able to seek refuge in the arms of his mother without looking like a coward. It was a shame, really. Some of Merlin’s more pleasant childhood memories were of him and his mother tucked up together in their tiny hut, Hunith a comforting presence at his side as he shivered and quaked at the mercy of the darkness.

He felt like that same scared little boy now as the shadows pressed in all around him. His mother was his light then. It was time to summon a new one now. He fumbled a clumsy hand to Gwaine in the darkness and grasped it tightly. The words slipped from him, unbidden.

 

“ _Solas_.” He whispered, and a ball of glowing, white light appeared in front of them. Gwaine grinned, his face white in the light. _Follow it_. A voice ghosted in his mind. _It will lead you to where you need to go._

They continued on, until the light from the entrance had disappeared entirely, and it was just Merlin’s light that allowed them to see anything. A screeching sound erupted in front of them, bouncing from wall to wall until they couldn't tell where exactly it had originated from. Merlin and Gwaine looked grimly to each other just as another noise sounded, this one sounding more humanoid. A battle cry.

They burst into a run. That was Arthur’s voice. They were close, so close. The cave suddenly widened from a narrow corridor into an endless cavern, and in the middle of it-

“Arthur.” Merlin breathed. Finally. But the prince wasn’t alone, no, not even close. Because there was the chimera and it had finally found prey worthy of its name. It released a roar and lunged for Arthur, only for Arthur jump and roll away from it, turning back to deliver a swipe of his sword. He was panting heavily, obviously tiring, and walked with a limp. He wouldn't last much longer. The chimera growled, swishing it’s snake’s head back and forth in anger. It was toying with him, like a cat chasing a mouse. The beast lunged again, catching Arthur off guard this time, and Arthur stumbled back, tripping and hitting the ground with a thud. The chimera loomed over him, jaw gaping and teeth bared, and Arthur braced for the death stroke. He cringed and held his sword in front of him for protection, knowing it would matter little in the end. The chimera lunged forward one last time, knowing too that this was the end, but the end never came.

Instead, a roar of pure agony sounded in the air, filled with hate and malice and a bit of madness. Merlin stood, one arm outstretched, and golden fire danced through his eyes.

*

  
Merlin was fire and darkness and light all at once. He was the Day and the Night, the Sun and the Moon. He saw it all, was it all, a being stretched out through all of time and space. And he felt _everything_. Every breath, every feeling or thought that had ever existed, he knew and felt them all. He was everything and he was eternal. And yet he was lost, lost in a sea of fire and light and darkness and everything that ever was. _Who are you?_ A voice hissed. And Merlin answered. _I am Emrys._ He whispered back. _And I am everyone and everything you have ever hurt. I am your destiny._ He finished quietly. _And I am your doom_.

 _Please._ The voice pleaded, cowering, knowing its end had come.

And as the blow came, and all of Emrys’s fury was unleashed upon it, Merlin understood for one moment why the beast had gone mad with hatred and rage. And he felt sorry for it. Any being who was forced to see everything, be everything, was bound to someday lose themselves in it. But, Merlin knew if it ever came to that with him, he'd be sure to end it himself.

Fire exploded throughout Merlin’s world.

*

“ _Merlin_ ,” A voice whispered, pulling at him, tugging at him. He _knew_ that voice if only he could sort through it all. “ _Merlin_.” The voice demanded again, firmer this time.

Slowly, the world came into focus, and he realized it was not on fire, but a certain chimera was. And everything _hurt._ He looked to the monster, the monster who had gone mad with everything the entire universe had to offer, and then to Arthur, his golden Prince. Arthur smiled at him grimly, kneeling down and making direct eye contact.

“You did it,” He whispered, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Merlin, you did it.”

And all Merlin could do was sob and fall into Arthur’s welcoming embrace. 

*

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. After his men had been defeated, and the battle was lost, the Chimera had dragged him off to the forest, and into a deep cave where he couldn't see but a few feet in front of him. He thought he was to be the beast’s snack, an appetizer before the main course and wasn't that a terrible way to die, but the beast had mostly left him alone until they reached the cavern, of course.

The cavern was alight with fire, magical fire, he thought, because the light came from the very walls, which should have been damp with perspiration. Littered across the cavern floor were the bones of those who had come before him, hundreds of them, and not a lick of flesh hanging from them. Something crunched underneath his feet. Arthur had to try very hard not to be violently sick.

He stared straight ahead because if he dared close his eyes, the beast might decide to end him then and there and if he looked down he knew he would certainly vomit. He walked with a limp because the chimera had drug him by the ankle until they reached the cave and it was now bleeding profusely.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the beast decided to kill him, knew with his very being that he would die here. And as he made a mad dash for a stray sword, left behind by a knight who too had fallen here, he had only one wish. He only wanted to see Merlin one last time before he ran into the open arms of death. And then, suddenly, as if the gods had heard and granted his request, Merlin appeared with Gwaine in tow, a ball of glowing white light in front of them and swords drawn.

He feinted and dodged, this way and that as the Chimera pressed his attack. He even got a good swipe in, but it only seemed to make it angrier. It lashed out and took him by surprise, causing him to fall back and hit the ground. He gasped and flung his sword out to protect himself, a last ditch effort. _I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die._ He thought hysterically.

And then he didn’t. Instead, Merlin flung out a hand and released a gut-wrenching scream, in time with the Chimera’s sudden screech. Merlin’s eyes were molten gold ablaze with endless depths in them and the Chimera was set on fire.

Arthur stumbled back, sword forgotten just as Gwaine caught Merlin’s crumpled form. Arthur crawled toward them, right leg a dead weight behind him, and caught sight of Merlin. For a single moment, he thought he was dead. But no, _there_ , a breath, ragged and short, escaped from his lips. He forced himself to stand, _For Merin_ , he thought fiercely and when his leg crumpled underneath his weight and black spots danced across his eyes, he gritted his teeth and stood.

Gwaine easily stepped away, realizing that Arthur was the only one capable of bringing Merlin back to himself. Merlin who had magic. And yet in that moment, Arthur could not care less. Merlin was Merlin prince, sorcerer, _friend_ , in all.

He knelt before his ex-manservant, who was shaking tremulously and rocking back and forth, Arthur grasped his shoulder gently. “Merlin,” He murmured. When he didn't respond, Arthur did it again, shaking him, though not roughly. “Merlin,” he demanded. Merlin’s eyes opened, and they were their regular ocean-like blue. Arthur hadn't even known he was holding his breath until he let it out.

“You did it.” He said softly, an assurance. Merlin’s gaze met his. “Merlin, you did it.”

Arthur saw it coming seconds before it happened. Merlin crumpled forward with a sob, finally able to share his burden, and Arthur was waiting for him with open arms. 

*

  
Later, when Merlin’s men had found them, Kay heading them (and he was indeed more furious than Merlin had ever seen him), and they had been carted off back to the citadel where an army of physicians and magical healers awaited them, Merlin and Arthur lay together on his huge (and impossibly soft) four poster bed, arms crossed behind their heads and staring up at the ceiling, where it had been painted a deep midnight blue and intricately painted stars winked down at them, per Merlin’s request.

When Merlin had first arrived in Mercia, the painters and carpenters and servants had spent weeks working on his new chambers and hadn't stopped until they deemed it fit for a prince. Merlin had thought it too much, having only just transitioned from the role of a servant where his room was cramped and his bed had unexplainable odd lumps in it to that of royalty, where he could have every luxury he had only ever dreamed of. But, the workers had deemed his hesitation nonsense and demanded he add his own personal touch. That was how the ceiling had come to be. The stars reminded him of Camelot, where he had spent long nights curled up in his thin blankets and gazing at the stars through his single window of Gaius’s chambers. If one looked close enough and knew enough about the stars, they might have noticed how they formed constellations and how each star, no matter how plain, had meaning and significance.

“Your chambers are beautiful, Merlin.” Arthur breathed softly. There was _nothing_ like this art in Camelot. Merlin smiled softly. It was nice, this, just talking with Arthur, none of their duties and rank in the way of things.

“I’ll have to tell the painters.” Arthur pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“I’ll have to drag them with me back to Camelot. Maybe their touch could liven up the place.”

“You’ll have to drag them back kicking and screaming. I hear they’re quite attached to me.” Merlin joked though it was undoubtedly true. From the very start, the servants and towns folk had doted on him, undeniably because they loved a good ‘rags to riches’ sort of story, especially when it came true.

“Undoubtedly.”

“It’s because of my natural charm.” Arthur snorted and threw a pillow at him. Merlin laughed and rolled away, taking his own pillow and throwing it blindly. It missed, of course.

“I think your aiming is worse than your coordination, _Mer_ lin.”

“I’ll have you know, Kay says I’m brilliant at knife throwing.”

“Then Kay must be a pushover.”

Soon, things dissolved into an all out pillow fight war, the two men, more like boys really, laughing and chuckling all the while. They were just Merlin and Arthur for now, no rank to divide them. But, as all good things, they must come to an end. Too soon, the events of the days caught up to them, and they became princes once more. There was something Merlin needed to tell him, and he trusted no other with it.

“Arthur,” He started. Arthur hummed in acknowledgment, settling back into his previously relaxed position. “The chimera from earlier…”.

Arthur sighed. “I don't want to talk about this right now, Merlin. Just go to sleep.”

Merlin pressed it. “No, Arthur. I _need_ to say this. And then I’ll be finished. Promise.” Arthur shifted to his side, obviously sensing the seriousness of what Merlin was about to say. Merlin did the same.

“When I…killed the chimera, something strange happened.” He drew in a breath. “I got a glimpse into its mind. And what I saw- Arthur what I saw…there was so much hate there, but under that, I saw _everything_. It felt like the whole universe. Every feeling. Every thought. Every touch that has ever existed and will ever exist.” Merlin paused, trying to contain himself. Depending on how Arthur reacted, this could be everything.

“And I felt _sorry_ for it. Because he couldn't help but go mad, not with all that in his head. And I couldn't help but feel, no matter how terrible it is, that if ever I was placed in such a position, I could not help but go mad as well.” He finished with a gasp, sounding suspiciously like a sob, and covered his mouth, muffling it.

Arthur didn't even hesitate to pull Merlin into an embrace. “That won't happen, Merlin.” He mumbled into his hair. He wasn't even sure if Merlin heard the next part. “I won't _let_ it happen.”

Later that night, when Malus came into check on them, ready to evacuate them to separate rooms for the night, he found them both deeply asleep, Merlin tucked comfortably into Arthur’s side. Their hands were clasped tightly, almost desperately. When Merlin twitched, obviously from whatever horror that plagued his head, Arthur grunted and shifted closer to him unconsciously, protectively.

It was not a romantic gesture, but one of comfort, from one friend to another. Malus sighed softly, though not unhappily, resigning himself to many more nights like this one.

He thought of Merlin, who, despite his cheerfulness and optimism, was a very lonely boy and obviously missed his friends back in Camelot, and how Arthur, raised in the nobility as he was, might feel the same if Merlin’s actions were any indication. These two needed each other, and though duty might separate them one way or another, Malus would certainly not be the one to do so.

They had a destiny to fulfill, after all.

*

 


End file.
